


If I Had A Heart

by galaxymeows



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 02:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4986943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxymeows/pseuds/galaxymeows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil’s thoughts race as he tries to focus on not getting himself lost in another person. Dan’s soft, shallow breaths send shivers up Phil’s arms, making his head swim even more. He knows how this ends up. One of them ends up dead while the other is left on this damn thing that they call Earth all alone with nothing but the deafening silence of his thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ahhh!!! this is my first work i've ever posted on here and i've done in the pbb!! im so excited!! special thanks to teedee (my amazing artist) and hannah (my lovely lovely beta), you guys helped make this possible  
> also shout out to my mom tiffany who also proofread this monster, ily <3

Making the bed - such an unbelievably mundane task that has somehow gained new meaning to Dan.

He huffs out a breath, remembering everything that was, and now everything that is. It’s almost comical how easily and quickly everything can crumble due to one microscopic mistake and launch everyone into a new era of disorder and destruction.

Dan tries not to think about it too much as he flattens out the edges of the ripped sheets, hoping to make it look well enough to remind him of home. _This is home now_ , he has to remind himself. _All these broken down buildings. Home._ But there truly isn’t going to be anything that looks or feel like his true home. He has to make do with what’s here, even if it kills him.

He slowly walks over to the tattered desk on the right side of the room, shuffling through the old drawings and broken pencils. He stops when he sees a messy portrait of a family, obviously drawn by someone who could barely figure out how to hold a pencil correctly. It was dated on the back, Lilly, 2013. A sharp twinge of emotions shoots through his gut as he quickly shoves the drawing back amongst the other papers. He rummages through the drawers quickly, only finding a small red pocketknife. He takes it and walks cautiously to the softly lit kitchen.

It’s early in the morning, one of the only times that Dan feels safe. The birds are chirping cheerfully as if nothing could ever be wrong in the world.

It’s 2015 and at least half of the world’s population has been wiped out by the dead.

No one was even sure where it started or when it began; it was more of a sudden thing that news stations were broadcasting on all wavelengths. It went from being great to okay to confusing and then hell.

A cool, dewy breeze flows into the kitchen from the shattered window on the far side of the room. Dan sighs as he searches through the drawers for any little bit of food he may be able to find, although, judging by the messy and overthrown state of the room, he won’t find much, if anything at all. He listens to the stillness of the morning as he opens the squeaky cupboards, his stomach aching with anticipation of something to sustain it. In the far corner of one of the drawers he finds a Snickers bar, which surprisingly seems mostly intact. The package is covered in dust but the wrapper hasn’t been opened yet. Without much of a second thought, he eats all of it in a couple of bites. A small voice in the back of his mind shouts that he should save some of it for later, but he ignores it.

He doesn’t even know how much of ‘later’ is going to be left for him, so there really isn’t any point worrying about saving a small chocolate bar.

He savours the sweet, smooth, caramel taste as he licks the wrapper clean and tries to look for a bin to throw it away. As soon as the thought passes through his head he realizes how ridiculous it is to throw a wrapper away when the world has gone to absolute shit. He tosses it to the dirty floor and has one last look through the kitchen to see if there was anything else he could possibly find. The only thing he manages to discover is a rotting mouse under the sink, which definitely didn’t improve his morning.

He decides it’s best to leave this building sooner rather than later because he is so unfamiliar with this area. He walks quickly to the bedroom, grabbing his backpack and the wrench that he had found in an old hardware store in his hometown. For some odd reason, he favoured the heavy metal wrench over a gun. It was mainly because he felt too much like a killer when he defended himself with a gun, but also because the wrench was quieter and easier to use in close combat situations.

He almost laughs to himself when he realizes that he even has to worry about using weapons in combat situations. Two months ago he wouldn’t have even thought of hurting anyone, let alone having to kill them. Although they’re not really people - they’re more like things, if anything. And the running, _oh god,_ the running. He went from calling himself unfit and lazy to having to depend on his legs and reflexes to live.

He shakes all of these thoughts out of his head as he opens the door from the flat he had chosen to be safe enough to stay the night. He holds the wrench tightly against his chest when he finally steps into the hallway. He glances down both sides of the hall, making sure to keep an eye out for anyone - or anything. He does this every time he turns a corner until he finally reaches the front door that is barely hanging from its crushed hinges. A message is splattered messily in a crimson colour over the large window to Dan’s right. He knows it’s blood; it’s too light and bright to be anything else, yet he still tries to convince himself that it’s paint.

_KILL TO STAY ALIVE_

Right below the message is a body, obviously having been recently deceased. But that’s not what bothers him.

It’s a human body. Not one of those things, not a monster, but a teenager. A teenage boy. There is a gaping wound in his chest, obviously having been eaten away. The boy’s mouth is stretched into a scream that was never heard, his eyes fogged over with fear.

Dan’s heart speeds up as he rushes out of the building, leaving the boy’s glassy eyes to burn into the back of his skull. His senses are heightened as he jogs down the street, not daring to look into the small alleyways that he passes. He catches glimpses of walking corpses here and there, stumbling along, but he decides against confronting them and simply continues on.

He slows as the cold dew of the morning air finally catches up with him. Despite the multiple layers he has on, his hands and legs still shake. Whether it’s from the frigid air or the fear that’s laced in his veins, he can’t tell.

He hurries along the streets, losing track of any sense of direction. Having been in Manchester before ending up in London, he has approximately no clue at all where he is going. Sure, he’s visited London in the past, but he always had a guide.

For a month after the world went to hell, he had had his brother with him. He had driven Dan all the way to London because he had a false sense of hope that the military would be better here.

But now he’s dead.

And Dan is alone.

After his death, he could barely bring himself to leave his body with the awful monsters that killed him. Dan stayed in that same building for a week until he couldn’t bear to see the corpse of his brother lying on the broken tiles anymore. He left and has been wandering aimlessly ever since.

Dan is so lost in thought that he almost walks into a street lamp. He smiles sadly and shakes his head, resting his shoulder on the cold metal. He watches the orange clouds move lazily across the sky. It looks beautiful up there, he thinks, half wishing he was an angel or a bird so he could be amongst the clouds. He starts to get too into the moment but manages to snaps out of it to remind himself where he is, and how dangerous it is out here.

He huffs and shifts his body to start to walk again, when he hears rapid footsteps coming towards him. Before he realizes it, he is being hit with an insurmountable force. His legs  give out quickly and he slams onto the pavement. His face barely misses smashing into the ground, causing panic to shake through his body. The wrench is still tightly held against his chest as he struggles to turn and see what attacked him. He frantically tries to flip himself onto his back so he can get a better grip on how to retaliate, but whoever’s on him weighs far too much for Dan’s weak muscles to move.

“I got him, guys!” the man shouts.

It’s a human. He’s alive.

Dan lets out a sigh of relief.

He’s _alive_.

Dan is smirking as the man flips him onto his back, trying to disarm him in the process. Dan’s grip on the wrench doesn’t let up though, and soon his instincts kick in again.

It doesn’t matter that he’s human, he thinks to himself. He’s trying to hurt you. He’s trying to take the little you have.

Dan rams his knee into the man’s groin, causing his face to turn red as he shouts out of pain and anger. He pushes the man off of his body on to the pavement, where he lands with a dull thud. A victorious smile crosses Dan’s face, but his victory is cut short as another attacker pounces on to him.

This one - a woman - quickly tries to take the wrench out of Dan’s grip, failing just as much as the man before.

But instead of giving up like the other, she rams the wrench into Dan’s face. It hits just below his eye, sending rivets of pain spinning through his head. This loosens his grip on the weapon, although he still doesn’t let go.

She shoves it into his head again, this time hitting his jaw. Dan grits his teeth and holds back a scream as she continues.

The pain keeps coming and coming, to the point where he can’t tell the red paint of the wrench from his own blood. Eventually, in all of that, he lets go of the wrench, but she continues to smash the cold metal into his face.

The orange of the sky swirls and blurs as he loses the vision in his left eye. He can feel the dull thud of the wrench banging into his jaw and cheekbones, coupled with the warm feeling of liquid dripping down his face. He knew he was crying but he couldn’t tell the blood from his tears.

A sadistic smile is plastered on the woman’s face as she pounds the wrench into his skull. The man on the pavement next to them doesn’t move but has a frozen expression of horror on his face.

Dan barely sees the glimpse of a body topped with black hair smashing into the woman on top of him. A small feeling of relief crosses his mind as the rest of his vision disappears and is replaced with a sickening black.

 

* * *

****Dan dreams after that, surprisingly, if one could call it dreaming. Tidal waves of colours collide with splatters of liquids that all swish around in his mind. Soon after, all of the bright shades are replaced with the shade of red that he constantly dreads seeing.

Blood.

It’s everywhere.

In his head, he sees the twisted corpse of his brother, mangled on the broken tiles of a coffee shop. He looks down and sees that he’s covered in blood too, but he knows that it’s not his. It belongs to the body in front of him.

When he looks up again, the dead body of his brother is standing, facing him. His intestines hang from the gaping wound in his abdomen, the fluids dropping on the cold tiles. Dan stumbles backwards, only to wreck into another version of the twisted form that was once his brother. Soon they all surround him, cackling manically as they tear Dan’s flesh off of his body.

He screams and flails as he makes a piss poor attempt at escaping.

Then all of it is replaced with a blurry shade of blue and pain.

Oh, _fuck_ , the pain.

* * *

Dan finally makes a minuscule attempt at moving, but his limbs feel like they have been replaced with bricks. He knows that his body is there, but all of his senses have been dulled to the point where he feels like he’s weightless. Floating.

As soon as he registers the overwhelming pain that’s throbbing in his head, he tries to open his eyes to see where the hell he is. When he’s finally able to move, he is only able to open his right eye. The other one feels like someone rubbed  glue stick all over the inside of his eyelid.

He is greeted with the grim expression of a man with a mop of black hair on his head. He sits on a wooden chair a few feet away from the edge of the bed he’s laid on, his hands holding a baseball bat.

Dan tries to scan the room to the best of his ability, taking in what he can with his limited vision. It’s a small bedroom with light blue walls, casting a false sense of innocence with the soft light of the late morning. There’s not much left in the room but a few turned-over boxes, and the only piece of furniture is the nightstand next to the bed and the chair the strange boy is sitting on.

And it’s not that he looks overly strange - because he really doesn’t - but he does seem a little odd. The grim expression, coupled with the crooked glasses and shabby hair, definitely isn’t helping the suspicion about him rising in Dan’s gut.

“So,” the boy finally starts, his voice gravely. “You and I have found ourselves in a bit of an odd situation.”

The tension that was growing in Dan’s stomach releases a little bit as he attempts to smile.

“Yeah.” He manages to croak out, his throat insanely dry. He hasn’t had a good drink in a while.

“God, you sound almost as bad as you look. And you look pretty damn bad,” the black haired boy says, his face suggesting a small hint of a smile, “I would get you a drink or something, but this place doesn’t seem to have any running water. I was going to try to get you back to my hideout but,” he pauses, brushing some hair out of his face, “a few things stood in my way. Some quite literally.”

The man shifts in his seat, using the bat to help him stand up. He walks over to the nightstand and glances at Dan.

“One,” he holds up one finger, “I couldn’t carry you very far, especially in the state you’re in.”

“Two,” he holds up another finger, “There were a few corpses that I couldn’t seem to get rid of. Plus I couldn’t drag you and fight at the same time.”

“And three,” he puts down his hand and squats next to the bed, “Even though I saved your butt, it doesn’t mean I trust you. I just couldn’t let them kill you, because it's not like you were getting torn apart by some corpses. They were human, ya know?” he pauses to stand up again, turning towards the door, “Get some rest.”

He walks to the doorway, turning his head slightly to Dan before he shuts it.

“Just because I saved your sorry ass doesn’t mean anything. As soon as you can operate and not get yourself killed, you’re gone.”

Dan tries to focus on everything the boy just said to him, but the pain overtakes him.

And he sleeps.

* * *

 

“Hey, wake up.”

Dan blinks and tries to focus on the voice. The pain quickly returns as he raises his hand to his face, slightly startled by the amount of dried blood that has crusted over his features. He feels a hand take his and pull him upright, ending up in a hunched position due to the bunk bed he has been placed on. Being 6’ 2” has its disadvantages.

Dan picks up his head and focuses his working eye on the boy, although it does seem more swollen since the last time he was awake. He looks at the blurry figure and scoffs.

“We need to move. Now.” He says, worry laced in his voice.

“I can barely see! What the fuck do you expect me to do?!” Dan says, raising his voice.

“Uh,” the boy starts, “ _Dammit._ I don’t know. There are a lot of zombies in this building that I must’ve missed whenever I came in here…”

He continues to mutter and cuss under his breath as he paces around the small room. Dan attempts to clear his thoughts. He knows he has to trust this kid. He did save his life after all. But there still is a small part of his instincts that tell him to leave him as soon as he can.

“Okay, okay,” Dan huffs, “I think I can do this. Where’s my stuff?”

The other boy gestures to the bag next to Dan’s bed. He picks it up as he stands, stumbling slightly from lightheadedness.

The man shakes his head and lets out a sigh.

“Just keep your eyes, er, well, eye, on me. I’m going to try to get us to the flat I'm camped out in,” he takes a step closer to Dan, “But if you try anything, I won’t hesitate to leave you behind.”

There is a slight flicker of sympathy behind those big blue eyes that Dan barely picks up on as he turns to leave.

“Sure you will.” Dan mutters under his breath, holding the wrench up against his aching chest.

 

* * *

 

They are much higher up in the building than Dan thought. He sees a big ‘7’ on the wall as they walk through the hallway.

“How did you manage to carry me up 7 flights?” he asks, making sure to keep his voice to a hushed whisper.

The boy laughs slightly as they turn a corner.

“You really don’t weigh that much, to be honest,” the boy turns his head to Dan, “When’s the last time you had a good meal?”

“I ate a chocolate bar the morning I got attacked. That’s the most I’ve had in a while.” He replies, embarrassed. Most guys his age should be eating twice their weight in meat, and his greatest accomplishment is eating a tiny Snickers bar.

But of course, this isn’t 3 years ago. This is the world, dead.

Dan is startled as the man pushes his body back against the wall. He looks over as the boy presses his finger to his lips and gestures toward the corner ahead of them.

He finally hears the groans. Shit.

The boy peeks around the corner. Dan’s heart speeds up in his chest as he rests his gaze on a pile of flesh rotting away near the broken lift to his left.

“There’s only two. Do you think you can handle taking one down? The stairs are just at the end of the hall.” The man says, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

Dan nods warily in response, his grip tightening on the blood covered wrench.

They run around the corner, trying to keep their footsteps as quiet as they can. The zombies notice them as soon as they come into their line of view, grunting as they stumble towards them.

Dan feels anger rise in his stomach as he smashes the wrench into the side of the zombie’s head, feeling its skull crush under the force. The body crashes into the dirty floor and Dan is quick to crush what was remaining of its skull with his boot. Even though he knows the zombie is no longer moving, he takes the wrench and slams it repeatedly into the zombie’s head, anger tearing through his stomach. These bastards killed his brother. He stumbles back into the other boy, feeling his hands rest on his back, steadying his shaking body.

A tear runs down his cheek as he lets out a huff of relief. He lifts a hand to wipe his face when he hears more sickening groans coming from down the hallway.

He feels the weight of the other boy’s body pulling him down the hall towards the stairwell. His feet stumble at first but he manages to get a grip on reality again and picks up his pace, even though his body is already aching.

They both pant as they rush down the steps, hearing the heavy steps of the zombies picking up on them.

And they run.

Even after they burst through the doors of the building, even after they know the zombies have no chance of catching them, they keep running. Dan loses track of time as he keeps his working eye’s gaze on the calves of the boy ahead of him. He doesn’t bother to try and look up at the sky, lost in visions of blood that seems to stain the world.

He barely manages to stop and almost crashes into the boy ahead of him.

“Whoa,” the man says, “We’re here.”

He looks around the alleyway they stand in. It’s dimly lit and creepy, although he still decides to trust this guy to not kill him. A voice in the back of his mind says not to, but he doesn’t listen to it.

The feeling of breathlessness hits him as he hunches over and rests the wrench on his knees, finally taking deep, laboured breaths. The cool air of mid-autumn should be refreshing, but each breath he takes sends shivers through his body.

“You okay?” he hears the boy breathe, his voice winded.

Dan scoffs at him. _What a stupid question to ask_ , he thinks. _You okay? The dead are walking around and eating people. Do you think I’m fucking okay?_

He decides to refrain from the sarcasm; considering this is the second time this boy has saved him.

“Yeah,” he says, standing up straight again, “I feel like shit, but that’s more of a constant state.”

The boy lets a smile escape from his cracked lips as he nods in agreement. He turns towards a small opening covered with a tarp on the side of the building, poking it cautiously with his bat. He takes in a sharp inhale as he quickly turns his head back to Dan.

“I’m Phil, by the way.” He says, smirking slightly.

“I’m Dan,” he replies, sighing, “Thanks for saving my ass back there.”

Phil turns back to the opening, pushing the ripped tarp aside.

“The first time or the second?” he says as he disappears into the darkness of the building.

Dan follows.

* * *

As soon as Dan hears the click of the lock opening the door to the hideout, his body shakes with relief. His vision is clouded when he rests his eye on a tattered couch in the small living room. He stumbles over, dropping his backpack and wrench of the floor, flopping ungracefully onto the couch. He barely has time to mumble something to Phil before he falls into the lull of sleep.

Phil decides to let him sleep, knowing that he still is injured and needs somewhere to stay. He does want him out of here as soon as possible though; he has no time to get attached to another human. Especially one that is so careless.

He finishes bolting the front door, double-checking each lock, before walking to the room he’s made for himself. He scoops up Dan’s stuff, throwing it into the hall closet as he passes it by. He doesn’t want this boy getting any ideas to try to hurt him.

Phil lies down on his bed, throwing his glasses onto the nightstand next to him. Even though it’s mid-afternoon, he decides to sleep, too.

He is awfully tired.


	2. Chapter 2

Dan wakes up in the early morning. It’s still dark outside, the only sound being the crickets echoing through the flat. His head pounds as he raises it off of the sofa, glancing quickly around the living room. He can’t see much to begin with, and the blackness isn’t helping. He decides to get up and search around, hoping to find food. Or anything slightly edible.

He glides his hands against each side of the walls, feeling for openings. His hand finally finds a gap, and he almost falls into the room.

He quickly finds the light switch, gasping slightly when it actually turns on. The light sends a dull pain through his head, his eye taking a few seconds to adjust to the sudden brightness.

He jumps back when he sees his face in the large mirror against the wall.

Blood coats the entire left side of his face, his eye practically bulging out of its socket. His cheekbone is cut in several places, a large bruise barely poking out from behind the thick coat of blood. A small, crude bandage is placed near his eye, not quite where it should be.

His normally light and curly hair is dirty and matted, some of it plastered to the wounds on his face. It’s also much longer than it used to be, the back of it finally beginning to tickle his neck.

If he didn’t know he was alive, he would think he was part of the dead.

He hears a grunt come from outside the door, coupled with a small knock. He practically jumps out of his skin, slamming his hand into the sink. He winces.

“You in there?” he hears Phil’s low, gravely voice ask.

He breathes out a sigh of relief and gently opens the door, it squeaking horribly.

Phil walks in calmly, avoiding eye contact with the taller boy.

“You didn’t tell me I looked this bad.” Dan says, humour laced in his voice.

“I figured I didn’t need to, knowing that you definitely feel as bad as you look,” He responds, finally glancing over Dan’s body, “You need a shower.”

Dan stands there as Phil walks around the bathroom, grabbing a towel, a washcloth, and yellowed soap. He shoves all of it into Dan’s hands, tilting his head towards the shower.

“Try not to take too long, the tank I set up has limited water at times,” he says, going towards the doorway, “I’ll give you some bandages after you’re done.”

Dan turns to say thanks, but the black haired boy has already returned to his room. He shuts the door, which squeaks terribly the entire time.

The clothes are difficult to take off, his entire body aching as he pulls the shirt over his head. He grunts and bites his lips to try and suppress the urge to shout as he brushes against the tender skin of his face.

The minute the cold water hits him, he feels better. Sure, the world is still hell, and he’s in unbelievable pain, but at least he can feel layers of dirt washing away. Dan tries to get the dried blood off of his face, gingerly rubbing it with his hand. The water is stained pink as it washes down the drain, surrounding his feet.

He finishes, shivering slightly, feeling a cold gust swiping at his feet. As he reaches for the towel lying on the floor, he catches a glimpse of his body in the mirror. He stands up again, his feet making squeaks on the floor as he walks towards the mirror, mesmerized by his own body.

His normal physique had been replaced by an overly thin figure, his ribs slightly poking out. There are cuts and scratches everywhere, looking like he had been attacked by a cat. He is also strikingly pale, as if someone sucked all of the life out of him.

There is a sudden realization that he doesn’t know the man that is looking back at him.

He can’t even remember the last time he genuinely laughed, seeing the slight crease of the dimple in his cheek. He can’t remember when he didn’t look like a corpse, when he had life and colour in his skin. He doesn’t know how his eyes got so sunken and red.

He gasps for breath as he starts to sob, his entire body shaking with the force.  He rests his face into the stained towel in his hand, shouting. He doesn’t know what he’s shouting at. Perhaps the world, perhaps himself, perhaps at all the gods that don’t end what they started.

He feels a crushing weight on his chest as he pants, trying to find breath. He feels the warm tears as they fall, lifting the towel away from his face.

He jumps again as he hears another slight knock on the door.

“You okay?” Phil asks, slight hint of sympathy in his voice.

Dan rushes around, quickly drying his body off. His feet slip on the floor, although he manages to catch his balance before he falls over. He sniffles, wraps the towel around his waist sloppily, and opens the door.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” Dan says, his voice catching.

Phil stands there with a blank expression, his glasses still incredibly crooked. He holds a first aid kit in his hand, handing it over to Dan. It takes everything in his power not to gape at how skinny Dan is.

Just before Phil turns and tries to leave, Dan grabs his arm. He turns around, avoiding looking at Dan’s body.

“Could you uh,” Dan starts, sniffling again, “help me? I don’t know if I can get the bandages around my head…”

Phil smirks at his feet and takes the kit from Dan’s shaking hands. He kicks the door shut, gesturing for Dan to sit on the edge of the tub. He obliges.

They both sit in silence as Phil sifts through the kit, trying to find something to wrap around the thin boy’s head.

As soon as Phil glances into Dan’s eye, he knew he had been crying. His cheeks are still stained with tears, his working eye still watery and glassed over. Dan stares blankly at the wall, doing everything he can to avoid looking in the mirror.

Phil brushes Dan’s wet hair out of his face, grabbing a towel so he can dry it more before putting the clean bandages on it.

Dan winces as Phil wraps the gauze around his head, red blood from the wound already seeping through the white of the bandage.

“Sorry.” Phil mumbles, sticking his tongue out as he concentrates on covering the boy’s eye. He applies a small swatch of tape at the end and gingerly sets it in place. He takes out a few more band-aids, covering the small cuts on Dan’s face that are still bleeding, and slowly gets up. He looks at the boy - who seems so incredibly small and helpless - and a small twinge of sympathy shoots through his gut.

“You need some clean clothes?” Phil asks, making sure his voice is gentle.

Dan continues to stare at the wall, and slightly nods.

Phil returns as few minutes later with a small mound of clothes. He sets them onto the sink counter, gives a short glance to Dan, and leaves.

It seems like forever before he finally gets up and starts to pull the clothes over his cold body. All of the clothes are oversized, hanging off of his hips. He can feel tiredness pulling at his eyelid and decides that it’s best if he goes back to bed.

He catches a slight glimpse of himself in the mirror out of the corner of his eye.

The jumper he’s wearing is goddamn ugly.


	3. Chapter 3

The following morning Dan wakes up to the smell of food, his stomach immediately grumbling. He can’t seem to distinguish what food is emitting the sweet aura, but he gets up and follows the scent to the kitchen. Phil leans on the surprisingly clean stove, trying his best at pulling a smile. A lukewarm feeling fills up his body as he sees the younger boy’s face light up when he sees a bowl of oatmeal on the small table.

Dan doesn’t hesitate to drop down in the chair and start shoveling the food into his mouth. Sounds of pleasure come from him, only realizing halfway through his meal that there is another person in the room and maybe he should act a little more civilized. He swallows his mouthful and clears his throat.

“Uh, sorry,” he starts, looking at Phil, who has a goofy smile plastered on his face, “But this oatmeal practically tastes like heaven.”

Phil shakes his head as he pulls a chair up and sits across from Dan.

“I honestly never thought I would see someone love instant oatmeal so much,” Phil says, “Glad you like my cooking.” Phil decides not to bring up how frail the boy looked the night before, and how happy he is to see him getting something into his body.

Dan puts another spoonful into his mouth, the taste of cinnamon filling his body with warmth.

“So good.”

Phil laughs, even though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He really doesn’t want to have to protect and feed another person, but the tiny scrap of humanity left in him tells him that he can’t possibly leave this kid. He’s a mess.

Phil just doesn’t want to get attached. He knows what happens in the world they live in now and he doesn’t want to get attached and then have to deal with the inevitable loss.

Dan finishes his bowl in silence, followed by more silence, and then Dan can’t take it anymore and decides to prod Phil with questions.

“So, what did you like before the world went to shit?”

Phil takes the bowl away from Dan and puts it into the sink before answering, leaning against the countertop.

“It’s hard to remember,” he starts, staring at the top of the doorway, “I was very obsessed with Buffy the Vampire Slayer for about 90% of my life, and I still quite am. I had to leave all of my posters at home though. Not very practical for the apocalypse.”

He walks back over to his chair, a look of serious concentration on his face.

“I honestly can’t think of anything else. How about you?”

The look of concentration is transferred to Dan’s face, struggling to find any of his old interests in the disorganization that is his brain. A tiny light bulb practically poofs above his head as his face lights up.

“Muse! I fucking love Muse,” he says, smiling fondly at his memories, “I used to go to Reading Festival every year with my friends.”

“You too?” Phil questions, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “I love Muse! What’s your favourite album?”

“Origin of Symmetry.”

“Mine too!”

They do a half-assed high five before falling back into silence, slowly realizing that they don’t even know if the members of Muse are still alive. The sunlight that filled the room is suddenly replaced with a shade of grey as rain starts falling. It looks like whoever controls the weather was listening in on their conversation and decided to change the sky to match the mood that blankets the earth. It was like a movie scene, with the grim expression on Dan and Phil’s faces couple with the perfectly timed rain.

Dan slowly gets up from the chair, walking back to the couch he slept on the night before. He curls into a ball as he sits at the end of the couch, pulling his knees up against his chest. The rain drips down the window in no particular pattern, and Dan just watches. He is lost in the seemingly constant haze of thought that clouds his brain. He wants to be thankful that Phil saved his life, but it’s hard to focus on anything with the feeling of hopelessness in his heart.

_Is he really thankful that he saved his life?_

_Would he rather be dead?_

Despite the multiple layers he is wearing, he’s awfully cold.

* * *

The days monotonously go on and on, with Phil doing most things for Dan. He helps him change the bandages on his eye, makes him food, and even goes out for runs to find anything to help them out. Dan has gotten into the habit of letting Phil do everything for him, and he doesn’t care to stop. Of course, Phil is letting it happen instead of kicking him out. It’s his small scrap of humanity that lets Dan stay.

Dan is lying on the couch, reading a book Phil found in his room. Everything is completely still apart from the quiet tapping of his foot. Phil was out somewhere, doing something important. Dan honestly doesn’t remember what he had mumbled before he walked out the door. He didn’t care either, although he wouldn’t tell Phil that.

He is wrapped up in the story of an angel apocalypse, projected into the mind of a 16 year old. She was making her way towards San Francisco with an enemy angel-turned-reluctant friend. It makes Dan forget that his world is in an apocalypse, only with a different form of monster. It fills him with the sense of childhood innocence that nothing in the world could possibly go wrong.

It was seconds before he heard the scream coming from the hall outside his door. His head snaps up from the book, his mind quickly realizing that it’s Phil’s scream. Dan trips and fumbles as he runs towards the front door, tearing it open. His mind races as he sprints down the hall, following the echo of Phil’s struggling voice. Once he turns the corner, he sees Phil sprawled on his back, a zombie on clambering on top of him. He is barely holding it back to keep it from biting him, grunting under its weight.

Dan frantically searches around, looking for some form of weapon to fight with. There are only a few pieces of broken wood on the floor, but he supposes they would work. He didn’t really have much time to think about it.

He runs over to Phil, smashing the plank into the zombie’s head. It shouts out, not giving up on trying to bite Phil. This time Dan grabs it’s shoulders, ripping it’s decaying body from the screaming boy. As soon as the body thumps onto the floor, he takes no extra time to smash its head in. He feels the brown blood splatter onto his face, but he doesn’t let up until he sees nothing but the messy pile of mush where its head should be. He throws the plank of wood onto the zombie’s body, huffing out a large breath.

After the adrenaline from the moment wears off, his stomach lurches. The pile of flesh that he had felt triumphant over just a few seconds before now makes him sick. He hunches over, his chest heaving. Not much comes up, considering his stomach is never quite full. He spits out what’s left a taste of acid in his mouth before turning to Phil.

He is still lying on the ground, shocked at what just happened. His chest moves up and down at a quickened pace, a terrified look plastered to his face. Black strands of hair are thrown messily over his face, coated with splatters of blood.

Dan kneels next to him, letting out a sigh as if to ask, “You okay?” He doesn’t get a response, although he does stand up. Phil looks at Dan, the glance lingering just a bit too long, before rushing back down the hall to the apartment.

Just before Dan goes to follow, he notices Phil’s glasses are sitting broken on the floor. He picks up the pieces, hoping they had tape in their flat.

He glances back at the corpse on the ground, knowing it’s his doing, before finally walking after Phil, silently hoping that he was okay.

* * *

It’s hard to talk.

Phil knows that Dan can’t stay with him. The thought is constantly pounding at the inside of his head and he can’t possibly shrug it off anymore. Dan is so incredibly nice to him that it’s difficult to think about leaving him behind. He saved his life, even though he could’ve just left him behind and taken all of the resources he had gathered over the months he’d spent scavenging. But he protected him. Phil just couldn’t understand why.

The timid knock on his door makes him jump out of his skin before he hears the hushed tone of Dan’s voice.

“I’ve got your glasses,” he says, entering the room, “They, uh, kinda broke but I found some tape that should hold them together…” He hands them over to Phil, resisting the urge to worry over him like his mum would.

Phil doesn’t say thank you, nor does he look into the younger boy’s eyes. He knew he would get too attached to the chocolate colour of his gaze and the concerned look they have when he looks at him too long. He can’t. He can’t lose Dan like he’s lost every other godforsaken thing on the planet.

“You alright, Phil?”

The soft tone of his voice makes him want to explode with anger and resentment. Fuck. Now Dan is going to get attached to him.

Phil shoves the broken pair of glasses on his face and rushes out of the room, leaving Dan to stand in the small room with the leftover thoughts of regret lingering in his mind. Perhaps he had crossed some unmentioned border that had been set up between them. He tries not to think too hard on it. Thinking never does him any good.

Dan stands up and walks around the dimly lit flat, hoping that Phil hadn’t left. He found him in the lounge - or what was left of a lounge - staring out of the window with a distant gaze that said he was in some deep recess of his brain. Dan watches how his shoulders move with every shaky breath he takes before taking the empty space next to him.

They share thoughts of how the world was before, how they used to laugh so genuinely that their smiles actually reached their eyes. The silence that surrounds them is somehow comforting, allowing them both to reflect on what they’re going to do. Phil’s thoughts race as he tries to focus on not getting himself lost in another person. Dan’s soft, shallow breaths send shivers up Phil’s arms, making his head swim even more. He knows how this ends up. One of them ends up dead while the other is left on this damn thing that they call Earth all alone with nothing but the deafening silence of his thoughts.

Phil stands quickly and tries to rush out of the room before Dan notices. The sudden movement startles the younger boy as he whips his head around to catch Phil before he leaves the cold room.

“Phil?”

He reluctantly turns and faces the shadow of the skinny boy, pressing his eyelids shut and praying to whatever gods there are that he won’t feel anything towards this shell of a man he had saved.

“What’s wrong?”

Phil suddenly laughs wholeheartedly, his whole body shaking as anger builds up in his gut. He drags his hands down his face, his grim expression replaced with a sad smile.

“I don’t know Dan, it’s not like it the end of the world or anything?! It’s not like I don’t know if I am going to survive until tomorrow. It’s not like there is not one _fucking_ scrap of happiness left in this damn world that I can see!” He shouts, tears threatening to come too fast.

Dan stands there with a look of pain and understanding on his face. He feels the same way. He raises his eyes to Phil’s and opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it as he sees anger returning to Phil’s face.

“Don’t _EVEN_ say anything! If you say something it will just add to the never-ending pile of shit that is us. I can’t get attached to you. You know what happens when people care about other people? They fucking DIE!” Phil screams, clenching his jaw so tight it hurts. A tear falls behind his broken pair of glasses and he rushes to his room without another word, leaving Dan to stand there and listen to the gentle breeze sweep at his feet.

He doesn’t know that Phil spends the rest of the night with puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning Dan doesn’t want to see Phil and feel the inevitable awkwardness in the kitchen as they eat what’s left of their food rations, so he decides to go out and search for something. Phil had been doing it for a while for the both of them, so he supposes this is a way to return the favour. It can’t possibly be that difficult.

He grabs a bottle of water and shoves it in his bag with a little bit of food before he heads out. Dan has no clue where Phil keeps the rest of the weapons so he just takes his wrench again, still slightly covered with his dried blood. He scribbles a small note and leaves it on the dusty kitchen table before he leaves, hoping Phil wouldn’t mind him leaving.

All of his senses are heightened as he steps outside of the safety of the apartment. The stench of the corpse he had killed the day before filled the hall, causing him to gag. He rushes down the hall opposite the body, jogging lightly down the steps before feeling the cool rush of air brushing past his lips. Despite the slight drizzle of rain, the day looked exceptionally airy and beautiful. The sun creates soft shadows on the rubble littering the streets, giving false sense of security to the broken down city.

The first time Dan sees a zombie he forgets where he is. He forgets that he might be the only living, conscious being for miles. The zombie manages to stumble along without seeing him, continuing to who knows where.

Leaves crunch under his feet as he walks along, occasionally poking his head into different shops to see if there’s anything useful. He does manage to find a drug store with some first aid kits and paracetamol, but he doesn’t have the same luck with food. A few energy bars and canned beans were all he managed to scrape up in the few blocks he’d covered.

He decides to start heading home as the rain started picking up, making it extremely hard to see, especially with his eye being in the condition that it is. The beauty he had seen when he first stepped outside had been lost, now replaced with dim, cold shades of grey. The warm jumper that hung off his body is soaked, causing him to shiver uncontrollably. All of the elements were working against him.

His pace quickens as he hears a group of groans coming from behind him. He doesn’t dare turn his head to look, even though the curiosity is killing him. The grip on his wrench tightens as he rushes along, the groaning seemingly following him. The rain only gets worse as he nears the flat complex, making everything uncomfortably wet and slippery.

The first gunshot makes his heart stop.

The second one makes his knees shake.

The third screams, “ _Run_.”

He takes off in the direction of the alley that he had first come in with Phil the day that he saved him. The strangled noises from corpses crashing to the ground follow him like the dim light of the day. Gunshots continue to erupt around him as he frantically darts his eyes around to find where the fuck the alleyway is. Dan sees the blue of the tarp out of the corner of his eye as he rushes past the alley, turning around quickly to correct his mistake.

Just before he enters the dark, safe cover of the building, he rests his eye on the zombies coming towards him. Except there aren’t just a few.

It’s a horde.

There are groups of men dressed in all black shooting the corpses to the ground, but he doesn’t take too much time to think about who the hell they are. He already feels as if someone took every last ounce of air out of his lungs.

Dan rapidly rushes into the building, holding the slippery wrench close against his chest as he sprints up the steps. By the time he reaches the flat he is gasping for air, his soaked hair plastered to his face. He slams the front door shut and leans against it, dropping the wrench on the floor beside him. His lungs sputter for something to fill them, causing him to cough and shake with each laboured breath.

As soon as he regains his composure enough to look up, he’s greeted with Phil’s bloodshot eyes.

“What the hell?” he asks, his hands shaking by his sides.

Dan sucks in a huge breath before giving an answer.

“I figured we would need more stuff, so I decided to go out and search. And then it started raining like hell and there is a horde of zombies coming down the street and,” he takes a breath and pulls his hair out of his eye, “And I’m here now.”

“Well-” Phil tries to start.

“Listen, I don’t wanna talk right now. Just.” Dan sighs, “Not now, okay?”

Phil doesn’t answer, nor does he nod. He just stands there with a blank look on his face as Dan heads to the bathroom to change his sopping wet clothes.

 

* * *

The next days are surrounded in a cloak of ‘what to say’ as they rush past each other in the halls of the creaky flat. They both know what the other is thinking without even realizing, yet they say nothing. They eat what is left of their food rations in silence whilst worrying what’s going to happen next. Will they survive to see each other another day? Or will their lives be cut short as one watches the other get torn apart by the monsters that roam their world?

Eventually, they talk.

“What are we gonna do, Phil?” Dan asks, leaning on the dusty counter. He can’t remember when Phil stopped trying to clean the messy flat of theirs.

Phil snaps out of the lost thought he was in and turns quietly to Dan.

“What do you mean?” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes behind his taped glasses.

“What do you mean ‘what do I mean?’”, he takes a deep breath, “We have almost no food left. And we kinda need that survive.”

Phil sighs and looks up to meet Dan’s eyes.

“Uh, I don’t know. Didn’t you find any when you went out a couple days ago?” he says, reluctant at the thought of having to move.

“Not really. We’ve already eaten the little I found.” Dan replies.

“What do we do then?”

“We move.”

“What?”

“We move, Phil,” Dan pushes himself off of the counter and sits across from Phil, “There isn’t much food around this area, plus the guys I saw a couple days ago could find us sooner a later. And from what I saw, they don’t look particularly friendly.”

“Alright,” Phil starts, leaning back in his chair, “But it took me a while to find this place and set up the water, so there is no guarantee that we’ll find a place as good at this.”

“Yes, but it’s better than starving any more than we already are.”

The next few minutes are filled with the possibilities of either of them getting seriously injured, and the fear of losing what little they have. Phil doesn’t think Dan particularly cares about his existence; he’s just here for the protection. Dan thinks Phil cares too much. The mutual unhappiness fills the flat with a dim layer of heartache, everything hazy and blurred.

They don’t want to notice each other but Phil looks at how Dan’s thin arms move things around inside of his backpack as they collect their things. He notices how the curls of his hair accent his cut up cheeks, how the deep dimple on his left side peeks out when he reads something funny in his book.

Dan notices the deep shade that clouds Phil’s eyes on bad days, glazed over behind his roughly taped glasses. He sees how much Phil cares about everything, and how desperately he wants the world to be the way it was before. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the need in Phil’s gaze to save every small animal they find scuttling into the shadows as they walk along the broken streets.

They saunter down blocks upon blocks in complete silence; filled by the rustling of things unknown. Every once in awhile Phil points to a small flower poking through the pavement and smiles slightly, nostalgia in his dark blue eyes. He always tries to appreciate small things like flowers trying so hard to live, hoping that the people had tried to do the same in the hell of a world they live in now. Despite the looming sadness, Phil hopes for a better day, a better world.

There’s a dark shade of orange in the sky by the time they find some food. The broken windows of the shop are unwelcoming in every sense of the word, but they still step inside, desperate for sustenance. Someone had obviously been trying very hard to hide what was left in the store from unwanted visitors, everything piled in a cupboard in the far left corner. Phil hesitates, knowing that someone else may need this food as much as they do, but his hunger still takes prescience.

They both stock up on enough to last a week or two, still leaving some behind for whomever put it there. They both know that whoever put it there is just as desperate as they are, and they don’t want to take it away from them. It may be all they have.

Dan and Phil set off again, walking down dimmed pavements. Every shadow suddenly becomes a threat in the late afternoon light and send chills up their spines. Dan is armed with his bloody wrench, Phil with a dusty baseball bat. Phil’s eyes are wide behind his glasses, darting from alleyway to alleyway, hoping not to see a corpse lunging for him. Dan does the same, only his vision is limited to the right side of his head. He has to completely rely on his hearing to keep himself safe from attackers coming from the left. Luckily, Phil is closer to the street, so if anything comes he’d warn Dan before it got to him. It still doesn’t fill him with anything but uneasiness.

They walk past the building where Dan had stayed in for months, the bloody message still splattered on the cracked window. Dan knows how dangerous it could possibly be, considering he got attacked only a few blocks away. But at this point, with the sky dying and causing everything to become menacing in the shadows, they both know it’d be better to rest here for the night.

Dan takes the lead, listening for the grumbling of corpses as he leads Phil to the broken down “flat” that he had stayed in. It shouldn’t even be considered a flat in the condition it’s in, the walls rotting and the kitchen mangled.

“Welcome.” Dan says as they walk in, gesturing sarcastically towards the surrounding mess of the apartment.

“You stayed here?” Phil questions, wondering how’d he managed to stay alive for as long as he has.

Dan reluctantly nods in confirmation, slumping his pack onto the creaky floor. He keeps a tight hold on the wrench and quickly checks around the apartment, making sure no one had decided to hole up here while he was with Phil. He walks back over into the “lounge” and drops onto the dusty couch, mumbling to Phil that he’d sleep here tonight, and that there a bedroom to his left he can stay in. In almost no time he’s sleeping.

Phil reluctantly walks to the other room, knowing that Dan should be the one sleeping in a probably significantly more comfortable bed. He was going to protest, but Dan fell asleep so fast he decided to leave it at that.

He doesn’t know if he dreams, or if Dan dreams of him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh this is the last chapter!! i may continue it at some point if anyone really likes it (bc i feel like its so short!) but for now this is it
> 
> i hope you liked it <3

It’s funny how two people can spend so much time together and barely know anything about the other person. Dan thinks that Phil doesn’t care about his existence, even though there are no words to describe how Phil feels when he looks into the dark brown colour of Dan’s eyes. Phil thinks Dan is unhappy around him and just stays here because of the shelter and company but Dan knows he stays for _Phil_ because he feels as if the boy had put the stars in the sky just for him, his thoughts swimming in Phil’s blue eyes. Both of them are scared to die, but they’re also scared to live.

They are both so unbelievably similar yet neither of them realize how hopelessly intertwined they are with each other. Phil diverts his eyes when Dan catches him staring at his slim shoulders as they move up and down with each quiet breath, hoping that Dan wouldn’t realize what he was doing. It never works. Dan always catches him and secretly stares him as well, watching his shaking fingers as they scoop small spoonfuls of cold soup into his mouth in the dim light of the morning.

When their shoulders brush against each other when they are out looking for more food, their breaths catch, realizing that it’s dangerous to get so involved with people when it’s the end of the world. Dan’s dreams are replaced with nightmares of him standing there helplessly as Phil flesh gets torn apart by a rotten zombie. Phil hears Dan screaming through his wall, not knowing that he’s causing it. It’s frightening getting attached to people, and both Dan and Phil know it.

Dan’s screams started weeks ago, but Phil didn’t know it was because of him until he heard his name being shouted in the night. The childish innocence that cracks through his voice and the small whimpers he hears in the middle of the night make Phil want to curl up next to Dan and take all of the bad things away. He knows he can’t take away the walking corpses and he can’t take away physical hurt he endures everyday and he knows he can’t really help at all and it makes him feel like absolute shit.

Phil wakes to hear the heavy breathing of Dan echoing through the hall. He had left his door open before he went to bed, forgetting that it would only make Dan’s piercing shouts louder. Something shifts inside of him as he stands up and walks to where Dan had fallen asleep. The floorboards creak underneath his weight as he follows the whimpers through the flat. He finds Dan sleeping restlessly on the couch, a cold sweat covering his forehead. The dim light from the moon guides Phil through the room, keeping his eyes locked on the shaking boy. Pain shoots through his gut as he stands next to Dan, who keeps letting out small whispers.

“Phil!” He shouts, a tear dripping down the side of his face. Dan grabs for nothing as he scrunches his face up in hurt, visions of him having to shoot Phil in the head when he turns. The colour red is splattered on the inside of his eyelids, making everything in his mind hazy. He whimpers again, thrashing his head to the side. Phil is standing there seeing this boy suffer because of him and fucking hell he can’t take it anymore.

He leans over, gently turning Dan’s head to face him. He rests his lips on top of the younger boy’s, sliding his finger down Dan’s cheek to wipe away the tears. He feels the heavy breaths fade as Dan kisses back, everything gentle and breathless. Phil continues to slide his thumb in circles on Dan’s cheek, hoping to melt the nightmare away with every small touch. Dan pulls away and gasps for breath, only waiting for a second before grabbing Phil’s neck and pulling him back down. He’s a boy desperate for touch, rustling his shaking fingers through tufts of black hair. He knows it’s useless to try not to get attached to Phil. From the moment his gaze lingered too long in those blue eyes he was fucking _lost_.

Phil pulls away this time, his breath shaking as he rest his forehead against Dan’s.  He keeps his eyes shut, too scared to look into the frantic, bloodshot boys eyes. Relief runs through his body, quickly replaced with fear. Now they’re both in too deep, and they know it. Now, if one of them gets hurt to the point where nothing can be fixed, then every second of it will hurt more. Everything feels amazing and everything hurts.

The soft tone of Dan’s breath on Phil’s hands is shaken as rushed footsteps echo outside the flat. They both know what it means. Someone’s coming.

“Fuck fuck _fuck_!” Dan shouts as he pushes Phil away to get up off the couch, “They heard me oh shit oh _fuck_.”

Phil realizes the danger they are just a few seconds after Dan speaks, quickly rushing to gather his and Dan’s packs. His hands shake as he hands Dan his rusty wrench only to notice how badly the younger boy is shaking. Dan is practically motionless, every small thought racing through his head. He and Phil might not be able to get away. This might be the last moments they spend together. Every thought crushes him. Dan is breathless as his gaze lingers too long on the worried look in Phil’s eyes, praying to every God there is that they will survive this night.

Someone outside starts banging against the door, desperate to get in. Phil looks frantically around the room, trying to find any way out. He quickly grabs Dan by the hand and drags him down the hall, searching for a fire escape or fucking something.

In a small side room, a broken window lets in the cool night breeze. He drags Dan behind him and only lets go to squeeze himself through the broken glass, trying to avoid getting cut. He stumbles and the glass slashes his leg, but he gets up quickly and motions to the frightened boy. He follows suit, his legs shaking with fear. He manages to get through unscathed, but the worry only increases when he sees blood soaking through Phil’s jeans. Phil doesn’t seem to notice, he’s more worried about getting Dan to safety.

They hear the front door of the flat bust open as someone grunts loudly. The darkness coupled with the cold breeze makes it hard to run but they clamber down the steps and jump down to the street below. Crazy footsteps follow behind them, the laboured breathing practically going down their necks. They run into the night, sprinting past zombies trying to reach out and grab them. Both Dan and Phil secretly hope that the zombies will grab whoever is chasing them. Neither of them would admit it though.

Somewhere along the way the footsteps cease, and they come to a slower pace. Everything is eerily quiet, and it fills them both with an overwhelming sense of uneasiness. They take a few seconds to assess the other person, their eyes gliding up and down the other’s body. Other than Phil’s leg, they both seem to be all right, at least physically. Their heavy breathing is the only thing to be heard besides the occasional scuttling of monsters hidden, unseen.

Something reaches out and grabs Phil by the arm, dragging him into the shadows of a slim alleyway.

“Phil!” Dan shouts, not caring what hears him. He runs after, only to be met with a rotting hand grabbing his shoulder. In no time he smashes his wrench into the corpse's face, slumping against the wall before landing on the ground. He gives it an extra blow to the head, making sure it’s dead. He feels the rotten blood cover his hands as he clenches his fist, preparing to hurt whatever grabbed Phil.

The moonlight guides his working eyes to a teenager, a human teenager, gripping Phil by the throat, attempting to tear the pack off of his shoulders. Dan holds his wrench up to his chest before stepping towards Phil and the boy.

Phil’s face is going red and he quickly bites the kid’s arm, the boy shouting into the night. Phil falls to the ground and coughs with a raspy breath, the kid holding his arm as he grits his teeth together. Dan still continues on towards the boy, anger in his gut. The kid sees Dan’s rage filled eyes and turns to run out of the alley, failing as Dan trips him. His face smashes into the cold pavement, blood seeping out of his nose. He takes no time to get up again, sprinting out into the dim moonlight before Dan could do any serious harm.

Dan helps Phil up, checking to see if his pack is still there. Once he regains his composure, they set off again, never slowing down until they see the dim light of the morning over the shadowed horizon. They don’t pay attention to the things they pass, the small flowers or the tiny animals. Everything is focused on survival.

Eventually they stumble into a small, broken shop and find an empty office big enough to stay in. Every complex they had stumbled into had given off a bad vibe so they decided to take the safe route and sleep on the hard floor for at least one night.

Luckily, the small room had a window, letting the early morning light stream in onto the broken boys, comforting them in a way they can’t explain. They stand there, slumped against the walls as they breathe so heavily they’re sure the birds in the sky can hear them.

Phil eventually slumps to the floor, defeated by the night. Dan joins him and they sit there, shoulders leaching warmth onto the other’s body. Phil begins to cry, his shaking body unable to contain all of the feelings he has stored in the overflowing vault in his head. He leans into Dan, and he runs his gentle fingers through the tufts of dirty black hair, trying to reassure him.

Dan starts crying too, although he’s not sure why. Whether it’s for Phil or for what the world could’ve been like before, he doesn’t know. They sit there in a shaking pile of unbreakable unhappiness, the dim light making the tears glisten on their faces. The birds are still sing their songs, drowning out the small sobs coming from the boys. Even in the overturned office surrounded by the dead world, their presence comforts each other in a way that is unexplainable, indescribable.

The orange hue of the morning lulls them into sleep, leaning ungracefully into each other. Despite being overly lanky, Dan still warms Phil, arms wrapped around his wide shoulders. They sleep into the day, imagining all of the things that are and could be.

Visions of each other go through their head, and for once, it’s not of the other one being torn apart. They’re visions of them dancing in a small apartment, surrounded by the comforting feeling of each other's presence and the world they made together. The soft lull of music is in the background as they dance together, making everything peaceful even when Phil stumbles over his own feet. Dan smiles with his entire being, eyes squinting and dimples showing like there’s nothing else in the world but Phil. The blue in his eyes shows unending possibilities of everything that they are, making everything okay, even if for a short while.

For the first night in many, Dan dreams.

 


End file.
